“It is granted ere spoken out,” said Cedric, striking his ready hand into the gauntleted palm of the Black Knight,—“it is granted already, were it to affect half my fortune.”
“Gage not thy promise so lightly,” said the Knight of the Fetterlock; “yet well I hope to gain the boon I shall ask. Meanwhile, adieu.”
“I have but to say,” added the Saxon, “that, during the funeral rites of the noble Athelstane, I shall be an inhabitant of the halls of his castle of Coningsburgh—They will be open to all who choose to partake of the funeral banqueting; and, I speak in name of the noble Edith, mother of the fallen prince, they will never be shut against him who laboured so bravely, though unsuccessfully, to save Athelstane from Norman chains and Norman steel.”
“Ay, ay,” said Wamba, who had resumed
